


October the Nineteenth

by Capostrophe



Series: At The End of the Day [9]
Category: Bread (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Depression, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Marriage, Memories, True Love, Trust Issues, Unhappy memories, milestone birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capostrophe/pseuds/Capostrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For others, a fortieth birthday is a milestone. For Martina, it's the twentieth anniversary of the day her heart shattered. </p>
<p>Spoilers for 'Leaping Out of the Bath (Shouting Next!)'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	October the Nineteenth

**October 19, 1999**

'For you.'

Martina eyes the flowers suspiciously. 'What've you done?'

Joey laughs a little too guiltily. 'Nothing, nothing! Just wanted to give you somethin', that's all. Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.'

He places them in her arms and Martina takes a proper look at them. They're yellow tulips. Her favourites. He really _has_ done something terrible, she thinks with a sinking heart.

'Another woman, a financial loss or an enormous Social Security scam?' she asks.

'None of the above.' He's grinning.

'Ahhh,' she says, nodding. 'A favour, then.'

'Martina, do you know what day it is?'

'Well, you're clearly intent on tellin' me, so is there any point in makin' a guess?'

'What I mean to say is, do you know what the date is?'

Actually, Martina doesn't. She hasn't been keeping track- it's very hard to stay organised, to stay on top of practical things like dates when you're running round after a strong-willed two-year-old every minute of the day. It's late October, she knows that much, and that's enough to get by on while she's preoccupied with chasing and scolding and kissing and nurturing Belle.

'It's October the nineteenth.'

Martina freezes. October the nineteenth. A day she'd rather not mark at all, apart from being another ordinary seventh of a week.

'You remembered,' she says drily. She doesn't know what she's accusing him of remembering- the fact that it's her birthday or the fact that it's the anniversary of the day she came home and found her brother missing. It doesn't matter, really. The two are linked, are one and the same in her mind.

They never acknowledge her birthday. They acknowledge Joey's- the entire Boswell _clan_ celebrates Joey's, all of them insisting on hosting such a ruckus of a party each year that she's actually been tempted to go to a hotel when the day comes around to get a bit of peace. They celebrate Belle's, and she makes an effort then, because Belle's only a little girl, but Joey generally picks out the present, and Martina just signs the card. When hers comes around, neither of them say anything. She's always a little more subdued than normal, and Joey respects that, sometimes touches her hand or her hair in passing in a symbolic gesture, but for the most part leaves her alone, and that's the extent of it.

Birthdays aren't nice things in her mind. They're tainted, tainted with one of the most painful memories of her entire life.

So the fact that Joey's acknowledging it now is too much for her to take- and it's especially too much for her to take when she's holding inappropriately cheery flowers. She puts them down on the coffee table, puts her head in her hands and cries.

'No, sweetheart, don't,' Joey begs, sitting down next to her, pulling her up into his lap, wrapping his arms as tightly round her as they'll go. It's meant to be comforting, but she feels like she's being crushed. 'I didn't want to upset you, Martina...'

'I'm not upset,' says Martina stubbornly, _stupidly_. This gets a laugh out of Joey at least, and the sound is lovely enough to cheer her up a little, to stop her snivelling.

'Oh, you're not, are you?' Joey asks, running his forefinger under her eyelashes and catching a tear, 'so what's this, then?'

He kisses the corner of her eye, strokes her face with his thumb.

'Why did you do that?' she murmurs. 'You know I can't bear ter think about it.'

'Well, maybe you need to,' he says gently, 'maybe you need to talk about it, just this once.'

She doesn't look at him, but she speaks. 'It's been twenty years, Joey. _Twenty years.'_

'I know,' he croons.

'And I still miss him as much as I did then.'

'I know,' he says again, 'sometimes I miss people too.' It's what she told him when he was brooding about Oscar, after Roxy came back just to rub it in that he'd probably never see him again. Martina wonders how much he thinks of him, now they have Belle. Probably a fair bit still, given what he just said, but it doesn't bother her as much as she thought it would. She knows he adores their girl, that she won't ever be second to Oscar. She lets it drop, goes back to her problem.

'Roger was the only person who really loved me,' she says. She's told him this a hundred times, but he's not bothered. He'll let her come out with it again. 'And I don't think I can ever forgive him for going the way he did, fer abandonin' me like that.'

'He might have been the only person who loved you, in those days,' Joey says, brushing her hair off her shoulders, kissing her forehead and her cheeks and her mouth, 'but you've got me now, and you've got Belle, and _we_ love you. I know it's not as if we can replace him, or anything, but I'm just _saying_ …'

'I know,' she sighs. 'I know you do.' She knows, and she knows Joey means well, but she still aches inside when she thinks about today. She's barely even registered the fact that it's her fortieth, that that's supposed to be significant- she's been far too caught up in the fact that it's the twentieth anniversary of the day she first stopped trusting people. But what he's saying is true. She's got Joey- she's got someone who truly cares, who she can confide in, and because of him she's got her daughter, she's got Belle. No matter whom she's lost, she's got two wonderful people in her life who'll never abandon her.

'And I know you don't want to remember what happened with Roger, sweetheart, and I know you don't want to celebrate your birthday, but I wanted to give you something today, sweetheart, if only this once. I wanted to do somethin' to mark me gratitude at the fact that it was exactly forty years ago God put you on this earth.'

Martina's touched by the sentiment- and that's saying something. Joey showers her in declarations of love nearly every day, and though she knows he means every one of them, this one's different somehow, more sincere than most.

'Yeah,' she breathes, 'I suppose it was.' She's calming rapidly, and though the hurt's still there, it's nearly completely overshadowed by the love she feels for Joey at this moment. She finds she can't be annoyed at him at all about it.

'And where would I be now if He hadn't, eh?'

'In gaol fer fraud?' she teases.

'And I thought it was your personal mission to put me there- aren't you out to get me, after all?'

'Oh, I am, Mister Boswell, I am. I just 'aven't gotten round to it- but I 'ave found out about most o' yer schemes, one way or another…' she trails off. 'Maybe I've gone soft…gotten lax.'

'You? _Never._ You're still the same beautiful, _amazing_ , frosty-faced DHSS lady you always were,' she laughs, and he kisses her. 'And I _love you._ '

Martina's moved beyond tears. She kisses him back, slow and soft, trying to express her gratitude.

'And I love you, you ridiculous man,' she mutters, 'and I know you were just tryin' ter show you appreciate me- and I love you fer _that_ as well.'

'Exactly, sweetheart. It was just a mark of appreciation. Nothin' to get worked up about.'

She hums, settles her head against his shoulder, pondering the flowers on the coffee table. She _will_ keep them, she decides. She's still not entirely happy about her birthday being brought up, but Joey's intentions are good, and she knows that, even after five years of being together, four years of marriage, his biggest worry is that she doesn't trust him or doesn't believe he truly loves her. So, yes, she'll keep them, as a demonstration of her own love and for Joey, to prove that she really _does_ believe him when he says that while others might have left her in the past, he never will.

'Oh, and, er…I may have actually done something, like you said… just somethin' _little_ …' Joey adds, almost as an afterthought.

Martina sighs heavily. _Why didn't I see that coming?_

She shifts herself off his lap, turns so she's looking sternly upon him. 'Oh, yeah?'

'Just a tiny, miniscule thing, really…'

'What have you done?' she demands, preparing herself for the inevitable waffle about how important whatever money it is he's embezzled is to his family- both this one and the one on Kelsall Street.

'I've invited Adrian 'round for dinner. And the kids. Irenee's out of town.'

Martina lets out an enormous sigh of relief, and then rounds on him.

'Oh, is _that all?_ I was set ter watch you get arrested! I was mentally pickin' out what dress I was gonna wear to yer court hearin', when you got done for defraudin' the Social Security,' she teases.

Joey chuckles. 'Ah, _but_ , even if I _had_ done somethin' truly terrible, as you were so quick to assume, to get as far as a court hearing, I would have to get caught.' He winks.

'It 'appened once, it could 'appen again…'

'Oh, don't you fret, sweetheart. My plans are a lot more ingenious these days. I've been _meticulous_ in hidin' me assets- the tax man could go over my incomings and outgoings with a fine-toothed comb and not be able to find a flaw.'

'And you're tellin' me this, knowin' I'm lookin' for an excuse to bring you down?'

'Oh, you knew anyway. You just said, didn't you, that you knew about me schemes.'

She smirks, leans over and rests her forehead against his. 'Oh, I do, I do. Don't _you_ fret, Mister Boswell, I'm still workin' on a plan to bring you down.'

'That's the Martina I know and love.' He gives her a quick kiss, and hugs her again, squeezing her. It doesn't feel crushing this time, though, and she's happy to return it, to bask gratefully in Joey's affection.

The scuffle of children's feet interrupts them, and they're able to rearrange themselves into a much less intimate position on the sofa before Adrian enters the room, followed by his lads and Annabelle, who's being carried by Davey. Though three years apart, the two of them are as close as can be- constantly giggling and plotting little devious things in their own childish way (or rather, Belle plots and Davey goes along with it, but seeing as she's only two and never comes up with anything worse than conning their parents out of an extra biscuit at tea-time, Martina doesn't feel it's worth telling them off about).

'Greetings!' Joey says, getting up to address his brother. 'I see Belle let you in, then.'

'She's been a very gracious hostess,' Adrian says, with a patronising smile in Belle's direction.

He clasps Joey's hand and shakes it vigorously, as he tends to do, and gives Martina a wary little wave. She waves back, offers him a _hello_ and waits 'til he's not looking at her before rolling her eyes. She's been with Joey for five years now, and Adrian _still_ hasn't gotten over being frightened of her. Not that she can say she minds. It's very entertaining, watching him tiptoe around her as if on eggshells.

'Mammy, look!' Belle bleats from across the room, demanding her attention. She nudges Davey, and he swings her around so she flies outwards. 'See!'

Martina bites her lip. 'Careful with her, love,' she reprimands Davey, 'she's only little- I won't be impressed if you break 'er bones.'

'It's _fun_ ,' Annabelle insists, as if this makes mildly risky things okay, but she hops down from her cousin's arms all the same- something's caught her eye. She bounces over to the coffee table, puts a hand on the flowers.

'Pretty!'

'They _are_ lovely, aren't they?' Adrian dares to say. 'You know, I was thinking of doing a still life with flowers the other day- I might paint some like this.' This last comment is more to himself than to the others, and he stands there for a while, musing before snapping out of his artistic daydream and looking at Joey once more. 'What's the occasion?'

Joey's eyes flicker to Martina. She gives him a minute shake of her head. It's one thing for her and her husband to quietly discuss the significance of today, but she doesn't want to share it with anyone else.

Joey gives her a small smile which says he understands, turns back to Adrian.

' _Well_ , you know how it is,' he says, 'you give poems to Irenee. Seein' as I've never been gifted in that area…'

'I wouldn't be too sure you're not, luv,' Martina interjects, 'look at the soliloquies you come out with down the Social Security…'

' _Anyway,_ ' Joey finishes, ignoring her, 'I choose to show my love and dedication in other ways, like spending great amounts of money on her.'

'Oh, yes, well, you _are_ good at spendin' money, I'll give you that, Joey,' says Adrian, and Martina laughs.

'Yeah, he's good at _that_ all right. Ask 'im to show yer the new gold watch 'e bought last week.'

'Ah, but you must admit, it _is_ a fine piece of work. I would've been mad _not_ to purchase it,' Joey says, and then the conversation drifts toward Joey's possessions and then the buying-and-selling game, and the reasoning behind the flowers is forgotten.

They spend a pleasant evening chatting, Adrian even working up the nerve to talk directly to Martina a few times, rather than through Joey, the kids nattering away, Annabelle and Davey sitting beside each other and conspiring rather than eating their dinner, and the yellow tulips sit in a vase in the middle of the table all the while.

And every so often, when everyone else is absorbed in their various conversations, Martina glances up at them and indulges in a private smile.

They still don't acknowledge her birthday when it comes round- that's the only time they mention it, and it's such a short conversation, over and done with so quickly that it's barely an acknowledgement at all, really. But Martina keeps the flowers until they're well and truly dead, and decides that really, if there had to be some recognition of her turning forty, well, they were a nice, understated way of doing it.

And they were a _very_ nice, understated way of reminding her that she's always had, and always will have someone who cares.

Someone who'll always make her happy.


End file.
